


Everything is Torn

by IcarusCrane



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Max/Chelle is a background pairing, Mild Humor, but he's the guest lecturer who gives lucifer's email to natalie, gabriel isn't mentioned by name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcarusCrane/pseuds/IcarusCrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Often Natalie will find herself thinking of him at strange moments. There is something almost comforting to him, something sweet, something that reminds her of the cinnamon candles her father burns over the holidays. Something soft and familiar. With each correspondence their relationship grows more personal, more private and it makes her want to rip her skin open and show him the bones underneath.)</p><p>Long-distance AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything is Torn

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote about a month ago, but after I saw [Kohii's "distance" picture](http://kohiiandmilk.tumblr.com/post/135429180942/distance) I knew I had to finish it.
> 
> A big thanks to my Beta! [Stars](s-t-a-r-away.tumblr.com)

o.

love (n)

It starts…

i.

Natalie is in her second semester of Harvard and she wears the burgundy and grey colors with pride. She speaks with confidence, with a sharp kindness, that leaves those around her floundering. Used to not being the smartest in the room, Natalie has learned to adapt, learned to hold herself high. She has learned how to manipulate with subtle charm, how to hide her cunning behind a sense of childishness.

To her left Chelle snorts, amused, as Natalie corrects their professor for the third time during his lecture on Biblical Mythology. The professor, a soft looking man with dark skin and a flash of red hair, flashes her a smile. At the end of the lesson he pulls her aside and hands her a name and an e-mail address. He tells her that he knows a boy in Oxford who is equally as gifted and just as sharp. Natalie smiles and takes the slip of paper without question.

It takes her two hours to write the first draft and four more before she hits send.

ii.

It starts with an e-mail address.

(They discuss different topics, write about school work and book recommendations. They like all the same movies and books and seasons, in each other they confide their aspirations and favorite colors. And after only three weeks Natalie can feel something blossoming inside of her, something awfully akin to a sickness, to a flame smoldering between her ribs. It makes her stomach toss and turn every time his name shows up in her inbox. Natalie takes a breath and feels the flames grow higher.)

iii.

Natalie’s phone chimes and her face spreads into a genuine grin as her fingers tap rapidly over the shiny touch-screen..

Chelle frowns in her general direction as she digs into her salad, her movements temporarily pausing at the noise before dragging a piece of lettuce to her lips. Natalie ignores the way Chelle murmurs to Naira, "Can't she tell him to piss off? What's the deal with him anyway?"

Naira stays silent, shrugging her shoulders as she begins to eat her own meal. There's a flicker of concern in her eyes but Natalie disregards it as she finishes her message.

iv.

It starts with a text message.

(Often Natalie will find herself thinking of him at strange moments. There is something almost comforting to him, something sweet, something that reminds her of the cinnamon candles her father burns over the holidays. Something soft and familiar. With each correspondence their relationship grows more personal, more private and it makes her want to rip her skin open and show him the bones underneath.)

v.

"Where's Natalie?" Naira asks when she returns from the restrooms. Her soft stare wanders from Michael, face still buried in the menu card, to Chelle, whose fingers nimbly dot across her phone screen, and finally to Max. Max shifts in his chair and snarls, something nasty and sharp, "She's outside on the phone with Him."

Naira turns to looks out the window. She watches her best friend chatting, her cheeks pink and eyes gleaming, her free hand moves animatedly as she speaks. The streetlight casts a yellowish tint over her, turning her red hair orange... And suddenly she laughs, throws her head back and for a moment Naira swears she can hear Natalie's giggles through the glass.

Naira just smiles and sits, blocking Max's view out the window.

vi.

It starts with a voice.

(Sometimes she wonders if Stan has someone like Naira too. If he has someone like Max, protective and angry and irrational, but the thoughts flutter away because Stan’s voice is heavy over the line, clear and dark with a heavy accent - and she can do nothing but fall for this wonderful man, her arms spread wide with only the icy depths of the ocean to break of her descent.)

vii.

"What does he look like?" Chelle asks, the rest of their group sits huddled around the two girls. Chelle doesn't say his name, but Natalie knows instantly who she's talking about. An exasperated sigh escapes Naira’s throat as soon as Max opens his mouth, the fear for his sister spilling from between his lips before Naira can stop him. Instead, she leans backwards, trying to concentrate on the text in her book but Max is persistent, his voice pervasive.

"Nat’s never seen him before. I bet he’s sixty and a pervert too, he probably has a bald head or a tail.” Max says indignantly, a frown marring his face before continuing, “I once saw a picture of man who looked like a demon, pitchfork and all!”

Max huffs as Chelle begins to laugh, and she playfully adds, "Kinky."

Naira rubs a hand over her face, watching the way Natalie picks imaginary crumbs from her scarf, she closes her textbook, there's no way she'll get any studying done now.

viii.

It starts with a picture.

(The photo he sends of himself is almost perfect. Natalie lays on her bed and memorizes how the curve of his cheekbones run across his face, how his skin gleams in the poor bathroom lighting, how his lips stretch into a sharp smirk. Stan’s nose is straight and aristocratic, and Natalie wonders if he uses mascara to make his eyelashes stand out. For a moment, Natalie thinks that this is all some kind of sick joke, but then she looks at his eyes, golden with dabs of royal and steel, before taking a long breath. Her smile is blinding.)

ix.

Naira observes the way Max's eyes dart around the front of the cinema, seeking out his sister. Beside her Chelle smirks, her eyes crinkling around the corners as the boy turns around to face her. He asks, voice distracted, "Do you know where Natalie is? I thought she wanted to meet us here?"

"She's not coming," Chelle replies a tad too mischievous, a tad too gleeful, as she pays for her ticket with a ten dollar bill. She waits for the cashier to hand over her change before turning and saying, in the same tone as before, "She's heading to the airport. Stan is arriving today."

Naira can see the exact moment when realization hits Max. The colour drains from his face, turning him an ashen pale until the blood starts to boil in his system, his cheeks turning shades of purple and red. His hands clench around his bag of popcorn, but then he deflates for a moment, "He won't come. I bet the slimy snake stands her up."

A deep sigh leaves Chelle's lips as her fingers wrap around his hand, "She's a grown woman, Max, let her make her own choices. Now, let's watch the movie while we wait."

Max frowns, but does not argue as he follows his girlfriend into the cinema. Naira trudges behind the couple, a small smile on her face.

x.

It starts with a kiss.

(Natalie waits at the airport for three hours before his flight finally lands, and within moments she spots him. He is beautiful. His hair is slicked back with a red button-down rolled at sleeves and tucked into a pair of dark denim pants. His eyes, hidden behind Aviator glasses, are unreadable, but he approaches her with fast steps before taking her face into his hands. She can feel his fingers, heavy and warn, against her jaw. Within seconds his lips on hers, soft and smooth and perfect. Her eye flutter close and she thinks that this... this is what heaven feels like.)

xi.

love (n)

It starts with you and me.


End file.
